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I turn back to Kari. “So, what’s it like? Growing up... like this.”

“For me, it's normal. It's all I've ever known. You have to learn early on that you’re different from humans and purebreds and not to share with humans that our kind even exists. There are rules, instincts, hierarchies. But you never really feel alone. Your wolf is always with you. It’s like having a second self that lives just beneath your skin—a silent partner with instincts you didn’t know you had, waiting for the moment you finally stop fighting it and let it rise.”

I chew on that, unsure if it comforts or unnerves me. The idea of something primal always lurking just under the surface—listening, watching, waiting—it should scare me. Instead, a strange pull tightens in my chest, like I’m reaching for something I didn’t even know I had.

Maggie speaks up. “That’s the part they don’t tell you when you get turned. It doesn’t come with a manual.”

I glance at her. “So you weren’t born into it.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. I was human until about a year ago. Got caught in the crossfire of a land developer trying to ensure my business went under. Kari and I have always been close so she sent in big brother Gideon to watch over me. Cassidy?”

Cassidy nods. “I fell for Rush when I was trying to chase down my father's killer. I wanted to be one with him so he turned me. All of us have one thing in common: fated mates who wouldn’t be denied. It can be a little intimidating and a little discombobulating—the whole there are shifters thing—but actually if you choose to be turned, the pieces just seem to fall into place.”

"I sometimes wonder if there isn't latent wolf or shifter DNA in all, or at least some, of us. Might that be what calls to your mate? Are we really turned, or simply awakened?" says Maggie philosophically.

Kari groans. "That's a bit esoteric for this hour of the morning."

Something in the way they talk—quiet and steel-strong—sends a ripple down my spine. I look down at my coffee and try to imagine what it would be like. Feeling something else inside you. Living with it. Letting it out.

“And you’re okay with it?” I ask.

Maggie shrugs. “It’s not easy. The instincts are wild, the control takes time, and the cravings... they can be intense. But yeah. I’m okay with it.”

Cassidy leans against the counter. “You thinking about it?”

I look up slowly, eyes meeting hers. “I don’t know,” I say slowly, swirling the coffee in my mug. “Deacon told me it’s my decision, but it feels like there’s more to it than just saying yes or no. Like part of me already knows the answer, even if I’m not ready to admit it yet. But I can't help but feel really drawn to it. It's almost like Maggie said, I wonder if Deacon is the key to unlocking something that's been waiting to be freed a long time.”

“What kind of something?” Kari asks.

I struggle to put it into words. “Like I know things I shouldn’t. Like I can sense... I don’t know, more. Not just people, but emotions. Energy. It prickles along my skin, a low hum I didn’t know I could feel until recently. My breath catches, heart thudding as I realize—whatever this is, it’s growing stronger. Familiar. Like I’ve been waiting for it without knowing what it was.”

Maggie tilts her head. “Could be your bond with Deacon deepening. Or it could be something else entirely.”

Kari’s gaze sharpens. “Have you felt something when Deacon transformed?”

I blink. “I didn't see him transform, he was human when I saw him afterwards and I haven’t seen any of you transform.”

She smiles slowly, predator-bright. “Not yet.”

A chill races down my spine, but not from fear, but from anticipation.

I take another sip of coffee, steadying my hands. “Well, if you decide to put on a show, I’ll try not to faint.”

Cassidy laughs. “You won’t. You’re too stubborn for that.”

“Damn right I am,” I mutter, but my mind’s already elsewhere. Circling a truth I’ve been trying not to look at too closely.

Something’s changing in me, and it’s not just about Deacon.

Before I can chase the thought, the door swings open with a sharp creak, slicing through the low hum of voices like a warning shot. My head snaps up. Every instinct goes taut.

Deacon strides in—fresh from the shower, his shirt clinging damp at the collar and chest like he couldn’t be bothered with a towel. His gaze locks on me with laser focus—hot, intense, and unreadable—and the rest of the room blurs out of existence.

Without pause, he crosses the space and grips the back of my neck, his callused fingers firm, the heat of his palm anchoring me with possessive certainty. One fluid, commanding pull and I’m against him—his mouth crashing down on mine.

It isn’t soft. It’s not gentle. It’s raw, consuming, a firebrand seared into the center of my soul. My breath vanishes. My body arches into his as he devours doubt, silences hesitation.

When he breaks the kiss, it’s only enough to speak—his voice a rasp of heat against my lips. “We need to talk.”